I just finished what I hope is my last bereavement thank you note. I can't say for sure because there continue to be stragglers, and my father just found out on Thursday that an entire contingent of his family had no idea my mother "transitioned". Cheers!
I now turn my attention to a difficult post which has been writing and rewriting itself in my head for over two months, ever since I started getting requests from people wanting to know what to say to someone who is recently bereaved, and more specifically, what to say to someone who has lost a mother. It's taken me so long because for some reason it seems harder to help people write these notes than it is to offer advice about how to thank people for recognizing a death. Writing a condolence note is extremely difficult, which is why most people fall back on purchasing a preprinted sentiment and signing their name to it. There is nothing wrong with doing this because, as with any gift, it's the thought that counts.
There are many reasons why it's difficult to know what to say following a death, but I think ultimately the uncertainty lies in the desperate need to be respectful of another's pain. That need is paralyzing, because no one wants to say anything that's a reminder of the loss for fear that the bereaved will break down crying. However, having been so recently bereaved, the following is crystal clear: No one has ever "reminded" me of my loss--whether I want to or not, I carry it with me wherever I go--and an acknowledgement of my mother's death has never made me feel worse than I already did. If tears come to my eyes after being asked how I'm doing, it's because I am grateful for a place to lay down my heavy load, even if it's just for a fleeting moment. And if I cry, it is because I trust you to comfort me until the pain passes.
That having been said, let's get down to specifics: Every situation is different and there is no blanket statement for bereavement. What I am about to share are merely guidelines and, in some cases, pie-in-the-sky idyllic examples of what would be nice to hear if you are the bereaved (and in other cases, blatant examples of what not to say).
Be honest.
The bereaved typically feel extremely vulnerable. Instead of fumbling around for the "right" words, if you don't know what to say, say that! Chances are they also have no idea what is expected of them in the situation and they will welcome your honesty. And, sadly I can say from experience, it sure beats being avoided.
Have a good memory about the deceased? Share it!
Most people want to remember the good things about the deceased, so writing something positive is always a safe bet. If you are lucky enough to have a memory of the deceased, it is customary to offer it to the bereaved. One of the best letters I got was one in which a friend shared an experience she had with my mother:
I will never forget when I met your Mom at your graduation. After years of talking about our moms I was anxious to meet her--maybe a little scared, too! I was struck by her immediate kindness to me: a big hug and "Lorie this" and "Lorie that". She knew me already and that made me feel good. You could tell that this was a woman who took her role as mom seriously. And I could tell how much she loved her kids. She was clearly proud to be there as your mom."
This brought tears to my eyes because it showed my mother in a positive light while also subtly addressing my need to know how important I was to her. Which leads us into a much trickier subsection:
What do you say if you know the relationship wasn't great?
Losing someone who was deeply loved but with whom there was also a dysfunctional relationship, especially if it was a parent, is its own special ring of hell with absolutely no respite. The pain is worse because the mourning is not only for the loss of the person as they were, it's also for the loss of their potential. No matter how prepared they think they are for this eventuality, the bereaved is staring down countless hours of deciphering the dysfunction, as they realize the relationship they have always fantasized about will never materialize.
Offering consolation in this case should only be attempted if you are intimately aware of the bereaved's situation, mainly due to so many opportunities for miscommunication. However, if you have the kind of relationship with the bereaved that will allow you to address their pain, I highly recommend doing so as this note was an unbelievable comfort to me:
Please forgive me for not responding sooner. I had no words at first and then didn't want to email a response...But I know through our many talks and hours of tumult in your relationship that this was iminent and would be painful [for you]. You know me so this is between us and is intended to help heal--you are a fabulous human being! Whatever void is left now that your mom has passed you will fill by living your life as fully as you desire. Go forward knowing you make a difference in all the lives you touch.
What makes this note so special is that it very simply recognizes my painful relationship with my mother, that there would be scars from her death, and that I was a good person despite all of that. Like I said before, bereavement leaves people exceptionally vulnerable, so recognizing these things will be appreciated more than you can imagine.
Also, it's ok if you wait a bit before offering this kind of support, particularly if you are a family member. My cousin, with whom I'd had no interaction prior to Mom's death, waited about 2-3 weeks after the funeral before writing to let me know that her family was well aware of "how M. was". Happy ending: we frequently email and I no longer feel marginalized by my relatives.
Don't just tell them to call you if they need something. Show up on their doorstep with cake.
I had an old neighbor do this to me two weeks ago and I can't tell you how much it meant to me. We weren't even that close, but when she found out about Mom's death from a mutual friend, she brought cake and visited with me for an hour and a half. We didn't even talk about Mom--it was just nice to be social for a while.
Don't say you know how they feel. You don't.
Every person experiences grief uniquely so to tell someone that you know exactly how they feel is not fair. I wouldn't even presume to tell any of my four siblings that I know exactly how they feel because each of our relationships with Mom was different. However, I can let them know when I can relate to the pain they are feeling, and offer my support. While this may seem like semantics, it's really just about having respect for another's ability to wade through the detritus of their own grief.
Also, it's a slippery slope from here to telling someone to snap out of it when you think they should be done grieving. It's not your place to try to rush another's grief, so don't.
Never, under any circumstances, use axioms like "Time heals all wounds".
My father actually trotted this one out at a Hospice family counseling session two days after Mom died. Like him, many people numbly repeat this phrase in the days and weeks after a death thinking it offers some kind of solace. It doesn't. In fact, it makes the bereaved feel as if their pain is being dismissed as incidental. Sure, pain does lessen over time; that's the nature of life. But you really shouldn't disrespect that pain in the interest of getting through an awkward moment.
If you say "He's in a better place now", "At least she's not suffering any more", "He's gone to God", you should know that you're not helping, you're hurting.
After a particularly painful death these seem to be the things that people fall back on--but even in writing that you can see the presumption that humans make, saying one death is more painful than another. The fact of the matter is that by remaining alive, we have no idea what it is like to die, nor do we know exactly where the deceased has gone. It may seem silly, but you might find yourself someday being forced to consider the nature of mortality and eternity after someone "helpfully" says something like this.
Additionally, for families like mine who have been there at the end, playing caregiver to a person increasingly ravaged by a disease designed to humiliate the deceased, saying something like this only serves to run brief movies of the last agonizing minutes of the deceased's life. You'd think a statement like 'they're in a better place now' would help alleviate that pain, but it does the exact opposite.
If you feel you must say this, at least wait a few weeks before doing so. The bereaved will thank you for it.
Keep asking how they're doing.
This sort of goes beyond what to say or to write immediately after someone dies. I have been guilty of this myself in the past, so I hardly have room to write this, but don't assume that someone will be ok three months after someone has died. If you are concerned enough to worry about what to say to them immediately following their loss, you really should try to follow up with them later. You've got a 60-40 chance that they'll say they're fine, but that's still 40% chance that they'll actually open up to you about how hard it was to get through a birthday, anniversary, holiday or life event without the support (however misguided) from the deceased.
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My hope is that this is even remotely helpful.
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